That night the moonlight was hazy, from a distance seeming filtered through slightly sandy crystal. The moon’s edges were somewhat rough, carrying faint red shadows. A few sparse stars hung scattered here and there, flickering bright and dim, as if heaven itself were mysteriously winking.

Wind gusted and lifted the tent flaps, the tie-strings crackling against wooden posts with increasing urgency.

Sometimes the wind grew fiercer, carrying a faint, delicate fragrance – something like a mixture of paulownia flowers and osmanthus, but so subtle it could only be detected with careful attention.

From within the tent came dim yellow lamplight, casting shadows of two figures – one seated, one reclining.

“Are you really all right?” Xiao Jue sat cross-legged facing Chu Feihuan, who lay wrapped in bedding. “I feel like something’s wrong with you. Take off your mask – it’s just the two of us in the main tent. Why are you still wearing it?”

“I’m fine,” Chu Feihuan didn’t look up at Xiao Jue, leaning sideways against the bedding with his fingers lightly grasping a corner of the military report. “I’m used to it.”

He seemed unwilling to speak much, and spoke slowly. Xiao Jue knew he was naturally taciturn and didn’t mind, rustling through military reports himself: “Bai Yuan’s main army has changed course. Given his style, do you think he’ll go to Chang City or Yu City?”

Chu Feihuan didn’t answer. After a long while, Xiao Jue looked up at him in surprise, and only then did he lightly move his finger, pointing toward Yu City on the map.

“Ha! Great minds think alike!” Xiao Jue slapped his thigh, his long eyebrows flying upward. “That fellow never plays by conventional rules. Chang City is closer and near the current Northern Wei border – by rights, being pursued as he is, he should choose Chang City. But I think he’s more likely to set his sights on Yu City. The defenses there are layered and comprehensive – wasteland perimeter, alert zones, defensive maps are all complete. Scouts, moats, drawbridges, ramparts, chevaux-de-frise, parapets, traverse walls – nothing’s missing. The grain stores are adequate too. And because the border monuments moved north, the earlier military deployments have changed. Yu City is no longer a fortress, so the garrison is insufficient. If Bai Yuan doesn’t have designs on Yu City, I’ll take his surname.”

He quickly finished reading the military reports: “His army actually still has the Eastern Yan Queen with it. The two armies split at Tiger’s Mouth Cliff, seemingly heading toward Chang City, but I think that’s a feint. Yesterday Su Xuan passed by our army – I asked him to protect Chang Ge first. Her safety should be secure, so I’ll head straight for Yu City and wait for her there.”

With a bitter smile, he continued: “I can’t catch up anyway – how can infantry compare to cavalry? And we’re carrying supply trains. If I wait for her at Yu City, I might see her faster than if I chased after her.”

Chu Feihuan nodded lightly. Xiao Jue had always been a man of action who acted on impulse. He immediately stood up: “Tonight I’ll take half the men and go wait for the rabbit by the tree. I’m closer to Yu City than Bai Yuan – this time I should finally get there first, right?”

As he walked toward the tent entrance, he laughed heartily: “You don’t seem in good spirits, so don’t worry about forced marches. Rest well. I won’t let Feng Ziguang come disturb you. If there’s truly urgent military business, you can just give him some guidance.”

By the time he finished his last sentence, he was already far outside the tent. The spirited young emperor casually decided the fate of ten thousand with a flip of his hand. He was accustomed to others accepting his decisions and didn’t know that spoken words should wait for others’ responses, because his words had always been imperial edicts.

So he would never know Chu Feihuan’s reply to his arrangements.

On the writing desk, the oil lamp’s flame swayed gently, nearly extinguished by the wind he’d stirred up when leaving – like that moment when life’s oil is nearly exhausted, that one point of light refusing to die, always on the verge of being snuffed out.

Outside the tent came bustling sounds – voices, horse neighing, clashing weapons, shouted commands – all so vigorous and vital, carrying fresh, bright energy that surged into the cold, quiet tent in waves.

The tent’s dome hung heavy overhead, casting a large patch of deep black shadow. In that dim space, the beautiful man lying quietly was silent as an ice sculpture about to be frozen forever.

Chu Feihuan gently exhaled a breath.

His hand pressed against the birthmark at his heart – there, where no one could see, the once vivid and brilliant golden carp mark had grown dim and colorless.

This was the sign of the Chu royal bloodline approaching death.

He knew he would die, but hadn’t expected it to come so quickly. The time left to cherish was always cruelly brief… Chu Feihuan pressed his heart, showing a faint smile.

That secret chamber in Xuanchi Palace had been so dark… When he opened his eyes, the thick smell of blood filled his nostrils, and his heart kept sinking, sinking endlessly. But when Yin Li asked that question – “Would you rather live ten years disabled, or one year whole?” – he suddenly became calm.

Was this a choice? No, this wasn’t choice – this was destiny. After those three years of struggling in the mud, having lost healthy limbs and martial arts, after countless times watching Chang Ge in danger while being unable to save her, unable even to stand at the same height to look at her – he’d long had no other choice.

His only hesitation then was seeing Xiaotian – Xiaotian who died with his heart cut out, trading his own heart for Chu Feihuan’s life. He should have cherished that properly.

…Xiaotian, I’m sorry.

The one-year deadline, calculated, was precisely today.

That day fighting Wanyan Chunzhen, his final true force broke the golden drum. The moment the drum shattered, he suddenly felt all his true force drained away, his consciousness seeming to suddenly separate from his body, floating in mid-air. Strangely, he could see through his own body to his heart – its increasingly slow beating, gradually approaching stillness.

In that instant he thought he was about to die, or had already died.

Like deep ocean darkness, boundless tidal waters surged over him, submerging him completely. Though his eyes were open, he suddenly couldn’t see anything.

Couldn’t see her either.

He vaguely heard her concerned inquiries but couldn’t make out what she was asking. He only gripped her hand tightly, using that real touch and strength to feel her warmth one last time.

Chang Ge, this will be the last time in my life I hold your hand.

In the tent, a single lamp like a bean illuminated this night’s desolation. The man’s black hair and dark eyes were deep as still water – those struggling ripples would eventually return to silence.

Chu Feihuan slowly removed his mask. The candleflame wavered and leaned to one side, as if unwilling to illuminate his pale face.

…Xiao Jue, I can’t help you anymore. Let Feng Ziguang handle things himself – I’m tired.

After this battle ends and the dust settles, there will be no final obstacles or difficulties between you and Chang Ge. So embrace her freely and wholeheartedly.

Her cool, slightly cold heart needs and is most easily moved by your burning passion. If she knows everything yet pretends ignorance for your sake.

She has always been protecting you, from past life to this one.

You are truly blessed.

I only hope you love her well, ten times, a hundred times more than I did. I hope you will doubly compensate her for the half of care she’ll lose when I leave.

I believe you can do it.

This night was both short and long.

Short enough that in an instant the gossamer thread sustaining life snapped; long enough that even desperate galloping couldn’t break through that seemingly eternal darkness.

At the third watch, snow inexplicably began to fall.

Scattered snowflakes drifted down in complete silence. That desolate and indifferent frontier city opened its eternally sleepless eyes, watching that single rider galloping alone with desperate determination, whistling like a blade through the vast wilderness.

The snow of the third watch first fell on Qin Chang Ge’s eyebrows and lashes.

Raising her face in mad galloping, Qin Chang Ge felt that touch of coolness between her brows penetrate straight to her heart – bone-chillingly cold, nearly suffocating in its freeze.

Su Xuan’s words echoed repeatedly in her ears:

“Chang Ge, I passed by the main camp and felt something seemed wrong with Brother Chu’s spirits. He kept his mask on and wouldn’t remove it – I couldn’t observe his complexion, but…”

Unfinished words were always more terrifying than direct statements.

Qin Chang Ge had leaped up almost instantly, rushing from camp to grab a horse and gallop off.

The oppressive unease that had lingered in her heart found its answer in that moment. Qin Chang Ge understood her intuition, yet feared it immensely.

She dared think of nothing more, only raced madly, spurring her horse in frantic gallop.

Ancient garrison ruins, night birds crying mournfully, hoofbeats clip-clopping through frozen earth and accumulated snow, bitter wind whipping past her ears with bone-cutting fierce pain – each gust like an encounter that left trails of crimson blood.

Her bound long hair was scattered by wind and snow in the wild ride, dancing chaotically behind her. Soon it accumulated a layer of icy white frost that was gradually shattered by the endless jolting, scattered across the frontier plains and melting soundlessly.

Qin Chang Ge no longer knew how to pity the fine horse beneath her, her long whip cutting through air as she struck repeatedly.

Feihuan, please wait for me!

…From somewhere a wind blew, slipping into the tent, carrying a vaguely familiar scent – paulownia’s sweet fragrance mixed with the slightly fishy breath of seashore, weaving into mysterious perfume that permeated the dim tent.

Distant horse neighing was broken by wind, and from somewhere in the pale mist came the mournful sound of brass horns. Among the myriad tents and yurts of this lonely frontier town, fragmented starlight flickered bright and dim. The once brilliant star farthest west gradually faded.

That strange wind carrying paulownia and seashore scents slowly circled within the tent, like angels from distant lands waiting to welcome the eternal return of their wandering traveler.

Though there was no jade incense burner in the tent, the noble fragrance of Canaan incense suddenly appeared, slowly enveloping that dark corner.

Chu Feihuan lay with his head pillowed, quietly listening to midnight’s long wind howling like song, lost in that ethereal fragrance, a smile flickering like broken wave-shadows.

…Where did these reed flowers come from? Floating in autumn’s pale blue sky, one fell on the water surface. He looked down and saw himself also immersed in water, yet didn’t feel cold. He reached to catch that reed flower – the mirror-like water suddenly rippled gently, and a white bird-like shadow appeared on the surface, swooping over in a gracefully stunning arc, light as a startled swan.

He smiled and turned back, saying: “Oh, so you’re here.”

…She swept over, suddenly holding a peach blossom at her fingertips, smilingly offering it to him. He smiled and accepted it, only then realizing the autumn water had somehow faded away – beneath his feet was solid blue stone bridge, with splendid peach groves behind.

She led him into the forest, but deep within was the magnificent, majestic Great Ceremony Hall. He stared in amazement as she released his hand, donned phoenix robes and jeweled crown, mounted the imperial palanquin and ascended marble steps. At the pinnacle of palace towers she smiled down, while at the foot of long stairs hundreds of officials bowed low in mountain-shaking ceremonial dance. Her smile was gracious but her eyes were sad.

…In a flash she was half-kneeling before his wheelchair, saying, “Feihuan, life is nothing but joy and sorrow, right and wrong.”

…She said, “Feihuan, I’m very lonely. At this hour, you cannot abandon me.”

…She said, “Wait for me.”

Chang Ge, I can’t wait for you anymore…

Before his eyes swirled like dancing petals, brahma flowers falling in shadows – they were paulownia flowers.

…Paulownia flowers, paulownia flowers… Palaces towering majestically, painted screens extending gracefully. White jade palace gates carved with cloud dragons and flying phoenixes opened, revealing Jade Paulownia Palace planted full of these common pale purple blossoms. Long jade stairs thickly carpeted with flower petals spread before him, endless and infinite, seeming to extend to the very horizon. He gently climbed step by step, fresh flowers remaining beautiful underfoot, while ahead immortal clouds drifted and colored light shimmered mysteriously. Faintly nine flying rainbows spanned the sky, and from the peak of long wind even farther away, celestial music began.

At the end of radiant light stood a woman with jade silk robes fluttering and cloud-high hair ornaments, snow-white skin and flower-like beauty – dimly resembling his mother concubine’s face.

…Mother Concubine, have you come to receive me?

He slowly walked forward.

The woman gently spread her arms in welcome, her smile tender and lovely, with five-colored brilliant clouds behind her and streaming dancing light.

“Huan’er, life is like tribulation – everyone must cross it eventually.”

She smiled and gently took his hand.

“I have been waiting for you for a very long time.”

…The wind gradually quieted, and the tent’s fragrance of paulownia and Canaan incense faded thread by thread.

The flickering, trembling candleflame suddenly jumped, then like being gently blown out, went completely dark.

Darkness enveloped the entire tent, with what seemed like gentle sighing, melodious and long.

Chu Feihuan’s fingers that had been lightly holding the military report relaxed slightly.

The report fluttered to the ground.

…

Chang Ge.

Forgive me for not being able to accompany you to old age.

The night was silent and still.

A horse’s neigh broke the calm that had returned to the camp after earlier commotion.

The guard soldiers instinctively looked up to see a snow-covered figure charging straight toward them on horseback. The soldiers raised their spears in alarm to block the way, but the rider shouted loudly: “Zhao Moyan!”

Then the soldiers felt a whirlwind sweep past them, spinning them around three times before they could stagger back to stability.

The camp was stirred, people gathering in crowds, war horses rearing and neighing restlessly, while that snow-covered figure headed straight for the main tent.

Feng Ziguang rushed out hurriedly, but before he could carefully identify the rider’s features, he saw a flash of yellow and the main tent’s great curtain lifted as the person charged inside.

Feng Ziguang anxiously tried to follow, but suddenly saw the person freeze at the tent entrance, then step back once, then again.

Feng Ziguang stood transfixed, finally recognizing his Grand Tutor. He stared blankly at that slightly trembling back, suddenly not daring to say another word or take another step forward.

Qin Chang Ge’s hand gripped the tent flap tightly, clutching it with such force.

She knew that without gripping so hard, she would surely collapse and never be able to rise again.

But how could she go forward now? The tent that spanned mere yards had become an impossible distance, the gap between heaven and earth that could never be bridged.

Ahead, the dark tent drifted with faint strange fragrance. In that corner where Feihuan usually stayed, he slept quietly.

Such a peaceful posture, such tranquil sleep.

Yet Qin Chang Ge felt darkness overwhelming her like a blanket, crashing into her mind in waves like massive stones, splattering blood and crushing bone and flesh, destroying all consciousness in burning agony.

Feihuan’s sleep was extremely alert – the slightest sound could usually wake him. With all the commotion she’d made, how could he possibly not open his eyes?

Why couldn’t she hear breathing or sense any sign of life?

Qin Chang Ge’s trembling gaze carefully swept over his face once, then her hand suddenly released.

No! No!

Don’t let it be real!

Don’t!

Something came crashing down, something fled swiftly away.

Qin Chang Ge stood rigid, unwilling to approach.

She became a stone statue at the tent entrance, staring fixedly at that corner, waiting for that beautiful man to open his eyes and smile at her as he had so many times before, saying “Chang Ge.”

…Time passed – who knew how long.

Perhaps sometimes an instant is a lifetime.

…Who knew how long she waited.

Complete silence – that man who had always supported her shoulders from behind, saying “I’m always waiting for you,” could give her no response ever again.

Feihuan… why won’t you speak?

Qin Chang Ge slowly, inch by inch, released her grip.

Little by little, she moved her feet.

Step by step, walking into that complete darkness.

Ten steps’ distance – an eternally unbridgeable chasm.

She used all her strength, each step costing blood, to measure the distance.

Finally, Qin Chang Ge’s toes touched the wooden platform beneath that sleeping person.

Suddenly losing all strength in her body, Qin Chang Ge’s legs gave way and she knelt before the platform.

Eyes closed, tears instantly surged forth. Qin Chang Ge slowly reached out, groping toward the platform. Her hand touched that chest once warm, now cold, and stopped.

Kneeling before the platform, Qin Chang Ge embraced the departed man’s body with both arms, resting her head against his chest.

At this moment I don’t seek to hear your forever-silenced heartbeat; at this moment I only want to give you one last bit of warmth.

Feihuan…

…That year’s peach blossoms on the trestle bridge bloomed and died, consuming one person’s lifetime of glory. She crossed the bridge while he bloomed blood flowers in the cold water below.

“Chang Ge, I hope in this life we can have a secret that belongs only to you and me.”

Feihuan, from now on I’ll have countless secrets to share with you, but where can I find you to listen?

…In the Blazing Flame Gang, the table full of delicacies suddenly seemed tasteless. He stared blankly at that jade pendant in his sleeve pouch, seeing that scene of vanished glory, heroes falling from clouds, struggling desperately in mire. Seeing him wounded, disabled, bearing the pain of being misunderstood and hunted by brothers and the Empress’s death, barely surviving in street corners and alleys, having lost his martial arts and unable to make a living, finally reduced to beggary.

Yet he only said lightly:

“You… your martial arts haven’t recovered. It must be very hard now? I’ll accompany you… to start over from the beginning.”

Feihuan, you accompanied me to start over – why didn’t you accompany me to the end?

…That stormy night in Shi Family Village, countless killing intentions focused on one line. That man speaking through the window, dressed in blue robes clear as immortal stream water, came through the rain with his disabled body to rescue her at the crucial moment. Between his calm brows, he was untroubled by waves – no one could see the pain and struggle behind them.

“Last night I felt restless and uneasy, unlike usual.”

Feihuan, in this life you and I were always in harmony, hearts connected – why was I unable even to see you one last time?

…During Youzhou’s internal chaos, Li Han who had feigned unconsciousness suddenly struck among ten thousand troops, his sword light instantly reaching Chu Feihuan’s chest, earning her panicked backward glance and infinite self-reproach.

He only smiled lightly: “If I need your protection to survive, I might as well die immediately.”

She hurriedly defended herself, but he said:

“I just never want the people I care about to worry or be concerned for me.”

Feihuan, you were wrong. Since my rebirth, it has always been you protecting me.

Feihuan, in this life I will no longer worry for you, yet I’ve gained eternal heartache instead.

…Suddenly a great shout came thundering:

“Let me in – I’ll die with him!”

She turned back in confusion from the chaos.

…Surrounded by countless people, amid their furious emotions, she was trapped in the center like a small boat that could be torn apart by the sea of angry citizens at any moment. In the infinite noise and crowding, under the gaze of ten thousand eyes, that man with a weak voice and insufficient energy said softly: “If I cannot save him, I hope I can die together with him.”

Feihuan, why did you break your word and ultimately choose to die before me?

Boom!

Divine hands gathered the giant axe that split heaven and earth, viciously cleaving the innocent earth. The ground convulsed and trembled, tearing and spasming, unable to bear the pain, violently shaking off all things that depended upon it!

In Yilan Hall, she ran with all her strength against the iron-plate-like wind striking her face.

…In the distance bright light flashed, and among the ruins, sparking fuses hissed. His steady hand, unwilling to live alone, fearlessly approached that firelight.

She ran up covered in cold sweat and threw herself down.

“Neither of us should die.”

Feihuan, in this life you never disobeyed any of my wishes – why did you choose to forget this most important sentence?

…Whose heart remained forever in the deep emerald green of Nanmin.

That reckless and vivid man gradually turned to green smoke and pale ash, floating far toward the distant east, where the easternmost Qingma Sacred Mountain stood silently for a thousand years.

“Xiaotian, I’m sorry.”

Feihuan, only now do I finally understand the meaning of those words.

Why would you never let me participate in the choices you faced?

…In the blue water, whose fingertips lightly and slowly traced across her heart?

Green and blue robes entwined softly, their black hair gently floating in the flowing water. The water was ice-cold yet their touching lips were warm as spring.

At that moment, who grasped whose hand, carving word by word in the palm the hope that had lingered in the heart but never been spoken?

“How afraid I am of losing you again.”

“Forgive me, I only wanted a moment of truly holding you in my arms.”

Feihuan, I too was so afraid of losing you, yet at this moment, the nightmare has come true.

…Who gently leaned close to her ear, voice low as a breeze from distant shores?

“Chang Ge, how I once hoped to make you my bride in this life.”

Feihuan, your heart’s wish still echoes in my ears, yet you’ve let go and abandoned me.

…Who smiled and bent down, lips like butterfly wings, falling upon long lashes?

That light fragrance like bergamot returned in illusion, like drifting light smoke gently enveloping. Under the bright moon, above the room’s radiance, that beautiful man reverently kissed both eyes.

“Chang Ge, in this life I never wished to hide anything from you.”

“Chang Ge, in this life and the next I only hope you won’t shed tears for anyone again.”

Feihuan, you were honest about everything yet hid the most important choice of life and death; you didn’t want me to cry, yet now I seem to be shedding a lifetime’s worth of tears.

…Whose beautiful figure was silhouetted by moonlight and starlight into graceful arcs? On the high tower during the festival, clear wind billowed, lifting long hair and blue robes, while ahead in the vast sky, sky lanterns carrying wishes flew far away.

“Chang Ge, I only wish this lantern could carry away all the loneliness, hatred, helplessness, and sorrow from your life, bringing you eternal luck, joy, fulfillment, and happiness.”

Feihuan, wishes are beautiful but reality is infinitely cruel.

All the helplessness and sorrow of my life are in this moment; all the joy and luck flew away with your departure.

…

The long night stretched endlessly, grief without end.

Outside the tent, light and shadow changed, from bright to dark to bright to dark again. Time slowly moved forward, showing no mercy to pause for human partings.

The snow continued falling.

Qin Chang Ge knew nothing, hadn’t even changed position.

She only knelt quietly before Chu Feihuan’s bed, stretching out her arms to hold him tightly.

She stayed close to his heart, yet could no longer hear the heartbeat she longed to hear.

Wind passed through the tent entrance, bringing in snow fragments like fallen pears. That wind was so cold, like the icy lake water from many, many years ago.

That year’s blue lake, the youth who turned back in the center of the lake water, his beautiful features also so cool.

He said: “That day, actually I wasn’t trying to die.”

“I just thought that reed flower in the center of the lake was particularly beautiful…”

Where has that reed flower flown to now? Which cloud?

Snow at the third watch, ice sealing ten thousand li. The legendary friendship between Phoenix Alliance’s three heroes and the founding Empress’s confidant, from their first meeting at the blue lake in autumn water to the lonely pillow by sparks in the frontier – that entanglement, following, and waiting they thought could go on forever slowly drew its final period on that desolate night of midnight snow.

In an instant a lifetime flowed past, one tear to bid you and me farewell.

“It’s snowing.”

Xiao Jue reined in his horse, looking up at the snowflakes drifting from the sky. Suddenly he felt a vague unease flicker through his heart.

He instinctively frowned and pondered but couldn’t find the cause of that sudden irritation.

There was nothing to worry about. He’d been fighting Bai Yuan for a day. By arriving first to defend the Yu City pass, he’d already surrounded Bai Yuan’s main army. Shan Shao’s reinforcements had also arrived. With two armies encircling them, their forces totaled six hundred thousand. Tonight’s final fierce assault should scatter the already panicked Yan army.

Could it be Chang Ge? But according to reports, Chang Ge had won a great victory at Tiger’s Mouth Cliff. Moreover, Su Xuan was in her army – at worst, her life wouldn’t be in danger.

Xiao Jue raised his eyebrows and smiled, casting aside that unease.

Victory was at hand, the struggle for supremacy nearing its end. After tonight, there would be no force left in the world that could contend with Xiliang. Complete unification of all nations would only require time.

For him, the most satisfying and joyful thing wasn’t the supreme honor of becoming emperor of all under heaven, but Chang Ge.

Kill Bai Yuan, settle all grudges, resolve Chang Ge’s concerns – then she could cast aside everything and return with him. If she didn’t like court life, he could abandon that troublesome throne early and ride alongside Chang Ge, laughing proudly to the ends of the earth.

Thinking of those days of watching sunsets together and talking of everyday matters in thatched cottages – plain yet eternal – Xiao Jue’s smile grew brighter, his gaze sparkling like stars in the sky.

“Your Majesty.”

Vanguard Li Ji’s voice broke through his reverie. Xiao Jue turned his head: “Hmm?”

“The Yan army has begun fierce charges on the left wing, apparently planning to break through. Please give your orders, Your Majesty.”

“The left wing?” Xiao Jue slowly curved his lips in a smile, spurring his horse to observe the battle situation ahead. Indeed, the surrounded Yan army had begun fierce attacks. Through the tide of yellow-clad, red-armored soldiers, he could vaguely see banners bearing yellow phoenixes.

“Your Majesty, the Yan army so obviously breaking through under imperial banners may not be credible. Making the real seem false and the false seem real – given Bai Yuan’s cunning, if he wanted to protect his lord and break through, he certainly wouldn’t display banners so conspicuously. I believe this must be a feint.”

“Oh, what do you think then?” Xiao Jue turned back with a smile to look at Li Ji.

The man answered decisively: “We should defend the right wing! I’ve already dispatched troops to reinforce the right wing defenses.”

Xiao Jue laughed heartily: “Wrong!”

Li Ji stared wide-eyed at Xiao Jue, who smiled and patted Li Ji’s shoulder: “You could be said to know something about Bai Yuan, but not nearly enough. However, you were right about one thing – making the real seem false and the false seem real. Bai Yuan understands human nature. He knows you’ll certainly have such doubts, because Minister Bai’s wisdom is renowned across all six nations – he definitely wouldn’t be stupid enough to openly display banners while breaking through. So he acts stupid for you to see.”

Li Ji said in amazement: “Could it be…”

Xiao Jue raised his horse whip and called out loudly: “I’m an honest man, and honest men can catch foxes too. Let’s go!”

On the right wing of the encirclement, defenses were relatively weak. With some cavalry taken away by Qin Chang Ge, mobility and breakthrough assault capability were affected. This Eastern Yan breakthrough force had heavy armored infantry as vanguards, followed by heavy cavalry, then light cavalry, with the central army behind, powerfully attacking Xiliang’s dense formations.

When Xiao Jue arrived, he saw the phoenix banner had already passed half their defense line. Under the banner, that man disguised as an ordinary soldier – who else could it be but Bai Yuan?

Unable to suppress a joyful laugh, Xiao Jue pointed his long sword and shouted with full true energy: “Bai Yuan, are tricks useful? Why not come fight me openly!”

“Is fighting you very interesting?” Bai Yuan looked at Xiao Jue with a half-smile, strange light flickering in his flowing gaze as he said lightly: “Fighting is crude people’s business – better not to do it if possible.”

Xiao Jue was so angry he laughed instead, frowning at him: “You want to win without fighting? Bai Yuan, you claim to be wise, but in the current situation, do you think you still have any chance of victory?”

“No, absolutely none,” Bai Yuan smiled slightly, unhurriedly taking out that purple bamboo flute from his robes, lovingly wiping it clean: “But wise people should create possibilities from impossibilities, should plant seeds that will sprout a thousand li away.”

He looked at Xiao Jue with slightly pitying eyes, then suddenly spurred his horse away.

Xiao Jue naturally gave chase.

Xiao Jue’s guards surrounded him in layers of protection, afraid that hidden weapons might fly from that flute. Xiao Jue waved the guards aside: “I’m not made of wood – I know to dodge when I see weapons coming!”

Bai Yuan suddenly turned around, bending to grab the black iron and black feather longbow at his horse’s side, aiming it at Xiao Jue from afar.

Xiao Jue laughed loudly: “An archery contest? Good!”

He reached out and drew three golden arrows from his quiver, nocking them on his specially made longbow. The full-drawn bow curved like the moon, the brilliantly golden heavy arrows also unflinchingly aimed at Bai Yuan’s forehead.

War God Xiao Jue had once dominated battlefields, his archery could be called peerless under heaven. Years ago, Qin Chang Ge had said that in archery alone, none in the world could surpass Xiao Jue.

“Twang!”

Bai Yuan’s arrow flew like lightning, breaking through space. Even across the armies shouting and horses neighing in fierce battle, one could still hear that sharp arrow’s piercing whistle as it cut through air.

Yet Xiao Jue felt this arrow didn’t seem to represent Bai Yuan’s highest level.

Still, he didn’t let his guard down. His arm shook and he shot three arrows in succession. At the moment of shooting, from the corner of his eye he seemed to see Bai Yuan suddenly drop his bow and raise the arrow to his lips.

The arrows flew swift as chasing light. The first arrow met that black heavy arrow, splitting it in half. The two halves still carried momentum, whistling left and right as they continued forward. But Xiao Jue’s second and third arrows had also arrived, shot in succession, miraculously splitting left and right in mid-air as well, precisely breaking the two halves into four pieces.

Witnessing this supernatural archery skill, Xiliang soldiers couldn’t help but cheer in unison.

Those four arrow pieces still flew toward Xiao Jue, though with depleted force. The first three fell before reaching him, struck down by central army guards. When a soldier swung his spear to knock down the last piece, suddenly something black exploded from its tail. That thing bounced off the soldier’s spear and suddenly accelerated, leaping over the blocking crowd like a streak of light toward Xiao Jue.

Xiao Jue curled his lip – Bai Yuan indeed had more tricks, but this arrow still couldn’t possibly harm him.

He raised his sword to block.

But flute music suddenly rose.

Rough, hoarse sounds with no musical beauty – so ugly they made one want to cover their ears.

Xiao Jue suddenly trembled.

…In the depths of his heart, some frozen world was suddenly split open by something, tearing a crack that released things swaying like underwater seaweed – distorted shapes that seemed like long-vanished nightmares returning. Yet unlike the previous gray blur, they grew clearer with each rising note of that strange flute music, like a crystal-covered screen. When external force struck down, the crystal shattered bit by bit, revealing scenes buried in memory, waiting to be awakened.

…In the deep palace gardens of Changle, a cold crescent moon was carved in the dark blue sky. The air faintly carried hints of blood. That man walked in confusion, crossing corridors, exiting palace gates. With a creak, dark light and shadow were slowly pushed open, revealing pale moonlight spread on the ground and… fresh blood.

…He walked forward, his gaze moving downward… On the ground lay a female corpse in silent stillness, a golden hairpin bloody at her heart, a pool of bright red beneath her.

…He crouched down, pulled out the golden hairpin, slowly moved to the woman’s face.

…He slowly gouged out the woman’s eyes, placing them in his palm…

That person…

Xiao Jue suddenly released his grip, letting go of the reins numbly, allowing his horse to slowly walk forward. On horseback he looked up, gazing far toward the clouds and sky, as if struggling to see clearly through the current smoke and blood what lay beyond.

He saw…

“Your Majesty, be careful!”

“Swoosh!”

Xiao Jue’s body trembled.

That sharp arrow he should have easily deflected, due to that moment when his soul flew beyond heaven, struck his chest.

Blood splattered, like the fresh blood that had flowed when he gouged out her eyes that day.

Xiao Jue slowly raised his hand, but didn’t know where to press. Everywhere hurt – he couldn’t tell which hurt more. Somewhere had been suddenly hollowed out, filled with coarse salt and burning fire, grinding so roughly and viciously, each hand leaving a bloody print, blood stains covering heaven and earth.

It was me… so it was me…

That enemy he’d sought to find, that murderer he’d desperately pursued, that cruel foe he’d cursed countless times – it had been himself all along.

That tiny red thing that had been crying in strange dreams, that flying object he couldn’t see clearly that filled him with infinite fear – it had been her eyeballs.

Xiao Jue suddenly wanted to laugh but didn’t know at whom.

How absurd the world was.

Blood gushed between his fingers, flowing faster and faster. All his body’s warmth and blood flowed away with this moment’s rushing torrent. Or perhaps even before this – in that thunderous instant when the sealed memories were split apart – all his faith and strength, all his love and courage, had already been fiercely grasped and then forcefully torn away.

Only a vast blood-colored wound that would never heal remained, pierced by the ceaseless wind above this frontier.

Xiao Jue clutched his heart and turned around extremely slowly.

Those battles and killings, those panicked shouts, those tides surging forward and retreating – he could no longer hear or see any of it.

He only struggled with all his effort toward the rear, toward the direction where Qin Chang Ge was.

Snow-bearing wind swept past his chest, pausing briefly before dancing up again. Those snowflakes had become peach blossoms.

In the wind, Xiao Jue turned back with difficulty. In the final moment before darkness fell, he gazed toward that direction where his beloved existed.

He no longer had any face to see her in this life, yet wanted one more look at her figure.

Behind him was only infinite, endless night.

Slowly releasing his hand, Xiao Jue’s low murmur scattered in the snowy sky.

“Chang Ge…”

Time flowed on – who knew what day or night it was.

The two people in the tent, one sleeping and one kneeling, one no longer aware of worldly changes, the other no longer willing to acknowledge worldly changes.

Qin Chang Ge buried her head against Chu Feihuan’s chest, in a daze not knowing three days had already passed.

On the final night, exhausted, she fell asleep against Chu Feihuan’s chest. In her hazy state she was still listening to Feihuan’s heartbeat, and that heartbeat gradually grew from nothing to something. She joyfully threw herself forward, but Feihuan refused to open his eyes no matter what.

She sat down dejectedly, covering her face and weeping. Suddenly the tent flap lifted and Xiao Jue strode in with the wind.

She rushed toward him, tears already flying before him when she was halfway there.

Xiao Jue took her hand and led her to Feihuan’s bedside. She murmured complaints that Feihuan wouldn’t wake up, but Xiao Jue laughed heartlessly.

Furious, she tried to drive Xiao Jue out, but he suddenly said: “Who said he could wake up? Who said he wasn’t dead? He’s dead – don’t you understand?”

She jumped up to push Xiao Jue away, but he suddenly stopped smiling and said softly: “Like me.”

“Like me.”

“Like me.”

Like a thunderbolt flashing across the sky, it split her awake by force. Qin Chang Ge sat bolt upright, clutching her chest. After a long daze she saw clearly this was still the main camp tent, and she was still together with Feihuan.

Qin Chang Ge exhaled in relief and slumped down against the long bed. That thunderbolt from her dream still left her heart palpitating – in the complete silence she could even hear her own heartbeat still beating lightly.

She pressed her heart and somehow it really did hurt a little… probably from excessive grief.

Leaning back like this, she suddenly saw Feihuan’s hand hanging over the bedside, with a military report beneath his hand, and beneath that report, a pale yellow letter.

Qin Chang Ge stared at that letter, slowly reaching out to pick it up and hold it in her hand.

She knew this was Feihuan’s final letter, but at this moment, did she truly have the courage to open it?

“Grand Tutor!!”

Suddenly came the sound of running footsteps, urgent and panicked, anguished shouts splitting the sky.

Qin Chang Ge’s hand trembled and the letter fell to the ground.

That painful, suffocating feeling surged back again, knife by knife, as if slowly cutting her heart and lungs with that fine, unbearable, inexplicable pain. For the first time, she who had never known fear began to be afraid. She clutched her heart, staring at the tent entrance where the flap hadn’t been properly closed, leaving a slight gap. Light and shadow from outside filtered in – torches flickering, countless feet hurrying.

The well-trained elite Xiliang troops – what could cause such panic?

Qin Chang Ge tried to speak but suddenly found she’d lost her voice.

Outside, someone heavily crashed to the ground, followed by extremely suppressed weeping that rose from the cold ground snow with muffled sobs.

“Grand Tutor, His Majesty has died, our army is greatly defeated!”